Peridot
by Evidentiality
Summary: Alfred speaks fondly of both Arthur's eyes and Arthur himself.


**rated m for a verbal and sexual obscenity**

* * *

"Your eyes," came a sudden voice. "I've figured it out, Arthur. It's your eyes that I like most. Have I told you that, yet?"

A sleepy mumble sounded, muffled by a mixture of blankets and pillows. Sluggishly, Arthur rolled over, silken sheets melting from his form while he mustered the most interested gaze he could. Alfred had taken to inane pillow talk far too often as of late. "It isn't even seven in the morning, Al. Why are you awake?"

"So I haven't told you, then. It's incredible. They're green, but they're not just _green_. They're different shades—from verdigris to peridot to emerald. I'm awfully certain that their colour all depends on how grouchy you are." Arthur's eyebrows furrowed, but the crooked grin smeared across Alfred's lips made him refrain from being snarky. "They... fit you. I ain't a poet, baby, but I could tell you a few nice things about those eyes."

Alfred looked rather relaxed. He was sitting up, gazing forward pensively, and Arthur took notice of his lack of glasses. "You already tell me too many nice things," Arthur protested, eyes drooping shut. Whatever had possessed Alfred to grow so thoughtful recently was far beyond his own understanding.

"This is different. I haven't told you about your eyes enough. They're—fuck, Arthur, no crystal could ever compare. I can read everything you're feelin' in those eyes," the larger man began, "and it's all like an open book. The last time you cried, everything was there. The distress, the humiliation, and maybe a little earnestness, even. You wouldn't tell me _why_ you were sad, but your eyes spoke it all."

"You're a big numpty. Just how many romance novels have you been reading?"

A cordial laugh rolled from Alfred's throat, and Arthur turned his head, red-cheeked. He was unwilling to admit how endearing Alfred was when unwound. The man was a big brute, unaware of his own strength and how petulant he could be, but Arthur was fond of it.

"I mean it, sweetheart. I know when you're happy, too. Whenever you read one of those weird books with the weird writing styles, you don't smile, but your eyes do. They gleam like dew on grass—_green_ grass, specifically. When you pout at me, you get the sweetest doe-eyed look I've ever had the fortune to witness in my life. It's awful cute, and it makes me wanna do some sinful things to you behind closed doors." Alfred's silly grin had only grown with every sentence. Now, he was watching Arthur, though the latter knew that his partner was unable to see well without those damnably thick glasses.

"You're the very definition of—of something ridiculous, I don't know," Arthur mumbled, shuffling forward so he could hide his face in the thick warmth that was Alfred's chest. "Do you spend all of your free time thinking like a lunatic? When I first met you, all you ever wanted to talk about was yourself. It's become quite the opposite."

"Why would I talk about myself when I can talk about you instead?" Alfred's hands raised, cupping Arthur's cheeks and tilting his head north. Without his glasses, his vision was considerably limited, but he still gazed into the emerald blurs that were Arthur's eyes. "Have you even _seen _yourself? You're a beauty, Arthur, inside and out. I'm still a little stunned that you chose me to be the one that gets to try and prove that to you."

Arthur squeezed his eyes shut when a firm kiss was pressed to his forehead. His lips quivered, and he slipped thin arms up to girdle the larger man's shoulders. "I didn't choose you, dearest. I got lucky," he informed, returning the kiss with a delicate peck to Alfred's cheek.

The grin on Alfred's face had softened into something kinder, more sincere, and said American only held Arthur even closer. "I think you're just a tad too humble for someone with eyes like jewels. I ain't goin' anywhere, hon, and I'll always take care of you."

"Go to bed," Arthur whined. The redness once spread along his cheeks had made its way across his ears, and he was utterly humbled. It only earned another laugh from Alfred, who promptly stole a (slightly misplaced) kiss and cocooned both he and his grumpy Englishman within warm sheets.


End file.
